by Maira Dawn
“No, don't think so. Couldn’t have gotten through my jeans or boots.” Dylan looked over his arms. “Arms look good.”
Skye averted her eyes and held back a chuckle. Yes, they do.
Dylan looked down the top of his t-shirt, then raised the bottom up over his chest and ran his hand over his abs. “All good.”
Skye’s eyes widened. Two long lines of old scaring ran down the side of his body from his upper back down to the top of his abs. Something bad had happened to Dylan when he was a child.
"I better check your back." Skye tucked her legs up on the seat of the truck and steadied herself in the moving car by holding his headrest. She pulled out the neck of his shirt and peered down his back. It was laced with burn and strap scars.
Skye’s heart ached. Dylan had been beaten badly in his life. Though a couple of the scars were newer, most were a decade or two old. She'd noticed the cigarette burns on his and Wade's arms before. Those were nothing next to this.
Skye tried to stick to the business at hand. ”None there. Let me check lower."
Dylan moved forward hugging the steering wheel as she pulled up his shirt from the bottom. Her fingers brushed against his hot, bruised skin. He flinched and glanced her way.
Skye’s throat ached as she looked at one of the worst abuse cases she had ever seen. So many scars, even knife wounds. Did his step-father stab him? What kind of man does any of this to a child? No, not a man. That is no man at all. What do you even call a person like that?
Skye's jaw clenched in raging anger. "Bruising is starting, but no bites. You are good."
Settling back in her seat, Skye tried to be inconspicuous as she wiped a stray tear from her eye and ignore the troubled glance Dylan sent her way.
Dylan hardly noticed his scars anymore until something like this came along. He didn’t like that Skye had seen them, but Dylan appreciated that she hadn’t gotten all emotional about it. A little tear was nothing next to some of the extreme outbursts he’d heard when people saw the scars that covered him.
Still, he didn’t like the sadness on the woman’s face. “It’s all right, Skye.”
Skye turned to him, anger now mixing with the heartbreak, though her tone was soft. “No, Dylan, it’s not. A child’s home should feel like a sanctuary, be safe, not what you had. To endure a childhood like that, it must have been misery.”
Dylan grunted as a twinge moved in his chest, an emotion he rarely allowed himself to consider. A wish he could’ve had the happy, secure boyhood others had. He quickly shut the thought down—wishing never did any good.
But Skye was right, and Dylan acknowledged her words with a small nod. "Well, it is what it is."
Skye looked down at the truck floor, then at him. "I'm sorry you went through that."
"You ain't got nothin to be apologizing over." Not wanting to discuss the subject further, Dylan changed it. "So, what's up with the Sick biting?"
Skye blinked a couple times. “I’d forgotten most people aren’t aware of what this disease is. The biting comes from the rabies side of the virus. Rabies rewires the brain. People, animals, its the same. It's a smart virus and needs to transfer by blood or saliva so it makes the Infected want to bite.”
"This thing is rabies? Uh. Makes sense, now ya say that."
Skye explained her visit to the Fenton Hospital then said, “AgFlu is in other countries too. The disease is rabies mixed with the 1918 flu epidemic, the worst flu of all time, highly deadly on its own. The Disease Control estimated about 70% of the earth's population would get the illness. As we are aware few survive the AgFlu.”
Dylan scoffed. "More'n that are dying. How exactly did these two get combined?"
"That, no one owned up too. The doctor's friend theorized that the AgFlu was part of germ warfare but wasn't sure if the sickness was the US's, and got loose by mistake, or if another country sent the virus over here."
Staring out the front windshield, Dylan said, "Either way, we’re screwed."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
Skye sat back against her seat. Then jumped and yelped.
“What? What’s wrong?” Quick as lightening, Dylan reached across the seat and pulled her to him as he slowed the truck.
Skye sat forward and pulled her shirt up from the bottom. “Please, get it off! There’s a bug on me since before they came after us. It’s still stinging me!”
Dylan saw the problem and pulled a bee from her back and flicked the insect out the window, then drew the stinger out and rubbed the spot. “How’s that?”
“Better. But it still hurts.” A little pout colored her voice.
Dylan held in a chuckle. She probably wouldn’t appreciate him finding her cute right now. “Well, all I’ve got is spit right now so we’ll need to wait until we get home to fix it up.”
“No, that is gross.” Skye tried to reach around to touch where it still hurt.
“Let it be. It’ll will be fine in a few minutes.”
“I know,” she mumbled as she tried again.
This time Dylan smirked. “I said, quit fussin, woman.”
Skye flashed him an irritated look.
Dylan laughed. It didn’t bother him at all, in fact, he kinda liked seeing those green eyes blazing a bit of fire in his direction.
13
Tell It
When they arrived at the cabin, Skye helped Dylan unload their haul. Wade came outside, excited to see what they found, and started hauling it into the house. Skye jumped from the back of the truck and picked up a box of food to take in.
Dylan followed, but stopped a frown on his face. He stared at the living room light shining through the open window and grabbed a backpack he kept in the truck bed.
He glanced at Skye. “I can't go in there.”
Puzzled, Skye looked from him to the cabin and back again, "What? Why?"
At that moment, Jesse stepped out the front door. Dylan raised a hand to stop him. "Look, we don't know if I got infected. I need to stay away from the boy."
Skye shook her head. “You didn't get anything on you, we checked.”
Wade came out of the house for his next armful and stopped. “What’s goin on?”
Dylan looked at his brother. “We had a run in with some Sick. I think I’ll stay out here for a few days.”
“A few days?” Skye asked.
Dylan ran a hand through his hair. “It's airborne too, and I was real close to them.”
Skye sat the box back down on the tailgate. “But you said you'd been sick and fought it off."
"But we ain't sure."
Skye groaned. “I wish we knew more about this. I was sick too. Perhaps we’re all carriers now and aren‘t aware of it. Whatever we are, Jesse hasn’t gotten sick yet. Dylan, you don’t have to do this.”
Dylan hesitated, bouncing the strap of his pack in his hand a few times. “I have to. Just a couple nights then to make sure I ain't got the quick kind." He looked from Jesse’s wide-eyed gaze to the ground and back again. "If something happened to that boy 'cause of me..." He shook his head. "I‘ll be right here so I can help keep an eye out, maybe sleep in the truck bed.”
Skye nodded and guided Jesse into the house as Dylan called Wade over and told him what Skye had learned at the hospital.
Jesse looked up at Skye. “Is this my fault? Cause I’m the only one who hasn’t been sick?”
Skye put the box on the table and turned to Jesse. “No! It’s no one’s fault, it’s just the way the world is right now. We have to be careful. Dylan is doing what he thinks is best.” She smoothed back his hair and looked at the boxes piled around the room. “Okay, buddy, somehow we have to fit all this food into this kitchen. Are you up to the challenge?”
“Yeah!”
Before they’d gotten far, Wade came stamping in. The moment he shut the door, he opened his mouth. The information that Dylan shared with him about the AgFlu disturbed him and brought up a flurry of conspiracy theories. It became clear this was one of Wade‘s f
avored hobbies.
While Skye and Jesse put away can after can of food, Wade spoke of terrorist attacks from other countries, of U.S. conspiracies against its citizens. By the time she opened the final box, Wade was certain it was clumsy scientists that caused the disease.
Skye shelved the last can and high-fived Jesse. Wade had spewed theories on top of theories and stories Skye could never dream up in an entire lifetime.
She kicked the empty boxes over to Wade, hoping they would slow him down. “Can you get rid of these, please?”
Wade nodded and gathered them up, his booming voice fading as he walked out the door.
Skye sent an eye roll to Jesse, which he returned. But when Wade walked back into the house and shut the door, he started where he left off, if possible, more insistent about each fine point of his assumptions. Jesse had his hands to his ears as he hummed to himself.
Skye put a hand to her throbbing head and her eyes narrowed. Dylan knew what he was doing when he left after telling Wade the news. This is probably the real reason he stayed outside. He was aware of what was coming. "Wade, stop! We can't take it anymore! Please, please we want to get some sleep."
Wade opened his mouth to object but before he could say anything, Skye pointed to the front door. "If you need to continue, you go outside and tell it to your brother, cause we can't--we just can't anymore."
Wade blustered. “Now listen here, Skye, what if--"
"Out, Wade! Out now."
Wade shook his head, his mouth turned-down and headed outdoors. “You just don’t get it.”
When Wade wasn’t back the next morning, Skye assumed he stayed outside with Dylan and smiled.
Jesse and Skye went through the clothes and other items they scavenged. Jesse restrained himself, as usual, from any large reactions, but he couldn’t hide the twinkle that came into his eyes as Skye showed him his new clothes. A smile curved the corner of his mouth when he spotted the model truck kit Dylan had found for him. He darted a glance at Skye.
“That is for you, Jesse. Dylan got it for you.”
Jesse's voice filled with amazement. "He did?"
Skye smiled through her sadness. Had no one ever gotten him a gift before? She ran her hand down his hair. "Yes, he did."
"It's new." He cautiously reached out for the box, inspecting it from all sides. "My friend had some. I helped him with them, and I always wanted one."
“And now, you have a truck,” Skye said. “This is a good one?”
"It's a great one!"
Jesse would be preoccupied for the rest of the afternoon if not the day. Skye smiled and gave his thick, dark hair another soft tousle before leaving him to it. She laid the men's new clothes on the bed and put her own away.
The past two days had been unlike anything she had ever imagined she would live through, but scavenging had given her an appreciation for things she’d never had before. And she had done her part, not just relied on Wade and Dylan to supply her needs. She lightly dragged her fingers across a t-shirt, a glow of pride filling her. Doubt in herself had overwhelmed Skye since this had begun, and it was nice to feel something else.
14
Not Proud
Tonight, it was Skye’s turn to cook, and earlier, she had noticed a clump of chives growing alongside the outside cabin wall, and decided they would be the touch she needed. She stepped outdoors and turned the corner only to come face to carcass with a hanging deer, and Dylan up to his elbows in it.
Skye did an abrupt one-eighty and put her hand to her mouth. Sheesh, I think I almost lost my breakfast! Too late, she remembered Dylan saying something about his catch.
Dylan gave an amused grunt. "I got a deer."
Not wanting to slight all his achievement despite her queasiness, Skye gave the most supportive answer she could. "That's great!"
As much as I appreciate his hard work supplying the dinner table, seeing this first hand, I can only think, poor little deer.
Her cheery reply didn’t fool Dylan. Skye’s face had said it all when she’d turned the corner. Her typical city girl response seemed both funny and a bit disappointing to him. "You want to eat, don't ya?"
"Not now, I don't!"
"I told you I was doin this."
“You didn’t say right here!” Skye jabbed her finger at the ground below her.
"Well, you’re gonna be smiling about my skills when you sit down to dinner this winter and have something to eat."
Skye sighed. He knows I won’t be here over the winter. But now wasn’t the time to remind him so she changed the subject. "So last night--"
Dylan cut her off. "You gonna stand with your back to me then?"
Unsure if he was teasing, irritated or something in between, Skye nevertheless determined to avoid facing the deer. "Yes, I am. I may enjoy deer later, but I don't enjoy it like this today."
Dylan chuckled as he watched her cross her arms and set her hip.
Skye cleared her throat. "So your brother--"
"Yeah, he does go on."
"That is the understatement of the year. I had to send him outside."
Dylan gathered up saliva and spit. Even from where Skye stood, the smell of the carcass filled her nose and mouth, she couldn't imagine have one's face so close.
“Yeah, I know,” Dylan said, “he woke me up and ran on some more about it.”
Skye couldn't hold in her giggle, "Well, better you than me. You wound him up by telling him! You should've waited."
"Yeah, well, I didn't think it would come back on me.”
Skye laughed at his sour expression. I knew it!
Skye pulled out her phone to find no service. Her mouth twisted in disappointment. Tom should call soon. Just in case, she tried dialing, but nothing happened. She pocketed the cell before cutting the chives she came out here to get then waved to Dylan before heading back into the house.
The smell of lemon cleaner drifted through the cabin clearing away the deer’s stench. Wade stood at the sink, scrubbing. His efforts didn’t surprise her, she regularly saw Wade and Dylan with a wash rag or broom in their hand.
“Smells good, Wade,” Skye said with a smile.
Wade glanced over his shoulder at her. "We grew up in a broke-down cabin. Somethin like this before we fixed it up. But that house was squalor, and I mean the full definition of the word. Dad most often had moonshine in one hand and the other in the waistband of his pants, if he bothered even to put ‘em on that day. Dylan and I tried cleanin up from time to time, but we never got nowhere. We ain’t talked 'bout the mess we lived in much, but when we found this camp, we patched it up and kept it up. We reckon it's not much, but we don't never want it like where we grew up."
"Don't talk your cabin down, Wade. It's a lot more than not much. You two have made it a home. I love it."
The idea that she liked their home seemed to surprise Wade. “Figured you were used to better than this.” He waved his arm about. “Ya smell of money.”
Wade wasn’t wrong. Skye’s home in Colton boasted large, beautiful rooms she decorated with care and updated with her favorite creature comforts. It awed some of her neighbors, but her home was nothing compared to her parent's house.
Skye’s mother came from wealth and wasn't afraid to use it. Skye was the first to admit, though, that she herself seldom held back when there was something she really wanted, but she was also aware that there was more to a home than awesome gadgets.
"Material things? Yeah, but that doesn't make it better. As a home, this is every bit as good as the one I grew up in." Skye gave Wade a warm smile.
A bit of pink came to Wade’s cheeks. “Well, that’s fine, I reckon. Just fine. This place means a lot.” Wade’s life had clearly held few compliments.
Skye heard one loud stomp on the porch before Jesse came flying in. Coated in dirt, he ran through the living room to the bathroom. Skye giggled. The tub will be black tonight! Dylan stood by the still-opened door, filling a water bucket. Dirt, blood and who knew what else also covered
him. How Mom would squirm if she were here.
On an individual level, all three of the males appeared to revel in the dirt. If they took a step outside, it seemed to magnetize to them. It was a rare day when she would see any one of them clean during working hours, but they settled for the night completely washed up.
Skye returned to making dinner. She glanced at Wade as he stopped his cleaning to inspect the window pane. He was most often found around the cabin, walking the roof or with his legs sticking half out of a cupboard as he tightened this or that. Dylan, on the other hand, preferred the woods and willingly ran to any work or activity that required he be there.
But there were many areas, the brothers overlapped, like their love of cars. One or the other was always under the hood of Dylan’s truck, and now, Skye’s Jeep. Skye laughed to herself. Either the vehicles are in horrible repair, or they possessed the most spotless engines known to man.
Now in the kitchen, Skye was a captive audience, and that was something Wade would never pass up. As she chopped and sliced, Wade told the story of the cabin with pride in his voice. “I made everything in here from free junkyard parts or scraps from other people’s houses, including the downspouts. The neighbors didn’t mind at all we were fixin this place up after we found it, long as we left them alone.”
“How did you find it?”
Wade looked away from her. “We came crossed it one day is all. We found it and moved in.”
“Just found it and moved in?” Skye asked. “Just like that?”
Wade shrugged. “Yep. Just like that.”
“How different our lives have been.” This time Skye looked away. Her family always had so much, gave her a great start in life. Theirs had little and given them nothing, not even kindness.